Rain traced slow paths down the windowpane.
It was one of those New York afternoons that couldn't decide if it wanted to storm or just sulk—gray skies, distant thunder, and enough dampness in the air to make everything feel heavier. Simon sat on the living room floor, knees drawn up, a textbook open in front of him.
But he wasn't reading.
Not really.
Every few seconds, his eyes drifted toward the hallway. Elena had been in her room for hours. Studying. Avoiding. Recalibrating—whatever it was, it felt like she was further away today, even though they were just one wall apart.
The night before, they'd held each other in the dark, speaking truths like confessions. It had been the first time either of them admitted aloud that people might be catching on.
And ever since, things felt… off.
Like a crack had formed.
And the sound of it spreading was loudest in the silence.
At dinner, she avoided his gaze.
Their mom wasn't home—another night shift at the hospital—but Elena sat at the far end of the table like they were strangers. She picked at her salad and nodded along as Simon tried to talk about school, about college applications, about anything other than what pulsed between them.
When he reached for the water pitcher, their fingers brushed.
She flinched.
That hurt more than it should've.
The next day at school, it got worse.
Eddie was waiting at Simon's locker before last period, arms crossed, jaw tight.
"Can we talk?"
Simon froze. "About?"
Eddie shrugged. "Just us. Come on."
They walked to the far stairwell—the one rarely used, the one that always smelled faintly of dust and old gym towels. Eddie leaned against the wall, staring at Simon with a look that didn't carry its usual ease.
"You and Elena've been weird lately."
Simon didn't respond.
"She's always tired, distant. Keeps saying she's stressed, but I know that look. That's not stress—it's something else."
Simon forced a shrug. "Maybe it's nothing."
"Yeah, maybe," Eddie said slowly. "But then there's you. Avoiding practice, spacing out, disappearing after school…"
Simon's jaw flexed. "What are you getting at?"
Eddie tilted his head. "Look, I don't want to believe anything. But I know when something's off. So I'm asking—man to man—is there something going on between you and Elena?"
The question came like a gut punch.
Simon didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because any answer—lie or truth—would shatter something.
Eddie's face darkened.
"I knew it," he muttered.
Simon stepped forward. "Eddie—"
"No. Don't," he snapped, pushing off the wall. "I don't want to hear your excuses. Just—tell me one thing. Did anything happen between you two?"
The hallway buzzed with fluorescent light and tension.
Simon met Eddie's eyes.
"I'm not going to lie to you."
Eddie exhaled, stepped back, shook his head like he was trying to erase what he'd just heard.
"She's your sister, man."
"No, she's not," Simon said, voice tight. "We were raised together, yeah, but she's not my sister. Not by blood. Not by law. Not even by marriage anymore."
Eddie stared at him. "You think that makes it okay?"
Simon's voice dropped. "I don't think it makes it easy. But I don't need your approval."
The silence that followed was brutal.
Then Eddie laughed—a sharp, bitter sound. "I hope she's worth it."
And with that, he walked away.
That evening, Simon sat outside on the fire escape, hoodie pulled up against the drizzle. The city looked blurred from this height—like someone had painted it in watercolors and smudged the edges.
The window creaked open behind him.
Elena crawled out carefully, sitting beside him on the cold metal grate.
"You look like you fought someone," she said softly.
"I did."
"Elaborate."
"Eddie knows."
Elena froze. "How?"
"He asked. I didn't lie."
Her breath hitched. "Simon…"
"I couldn't. Not anymore."
They sat in silence, rain misting over their knees and faces.
"He's going to tell people," Elena whispered.
"I know."
She wiped at her cheek, but it wasn't rain she brushed away.
"I don't want to lose everything," she said.
Simon reached over and took her hand.
"Then don't let go."
She looked at him, eyes glassy.
"If this explodes, there's no going back."
"Maybe going back was never the point."
Inside, they stood together by the radiator, steam hissing quietly beside them. The apartment felt warm, but only around each other.
"I don't regret this," Simon said.
Elena met his eyes. "Neither do I."
She leaned in slowly, resting her head against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, like they always belonged there.
No more pretending.
No more spaces between them.
Only the waiting sound of things about to come undone.